


lilac hearts

by queerio_gaymer



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Backstory, Clan Lavellan - Freeform, F/F, Lavellan Backstory, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, and canon typical 'good things never last', can i ever write something that isn't dripping in gay, it is dragon age after all, just cute fluff, kinda wistful in later chapters, ok now that's enough tags, right I think that is enough tags, the answer is no and also why would i want to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-28 06:19:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10825521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerio_gaymer/pseuds/queerio_gaymer
Summary: Lavellan had fallen a little bit in love with the shemlen mage ever since her first hunt, in that first stumbling together, and a little more in every meeting after…//Ch2:“It’s right there!” Trevelyan hissed, as if Lavellan, crouched only an arms-length away, had somehow not noticed the shaggy ram.“Where?” Lavellan whispered, feigning her best innocently clueless tone. She reached slowly, haltingly, into the quiver on her back, fishing out an arrow and knocking it.Trevelyan shot her a mock-exasperated look, though the smirk was a tell-tale giveaway she was faking. “Very cute, ha ha. So, are you going to shoot it?”Well, Lavellan was going to try.





	1. Chapter 1

 

* * *

 

_Lavellan had fallen a little bit in love with the shemlen mage ever since her first hunt, in that first stumbling together, and a little more in every meeting after_ _…_

__

__

They met during Lavellan’s first hunt. She often liked to look back on it in a charmed sort of reverie, but in truth - Lavellan had been a twitchy apprentice, just beginning her 15th summer, and Trevelyan had nearly gotten herself shot.

 

How it really had happened was like this:

 

Lavellan had been wandering the woods for what felt like the entire morning, though she was fairly certain it’d only been about two hours. Her jangled nerves were knotted in her stomach, time and the quietness of the forest seeming connected only by the barest of thread.

 

Lavellan tucked a strand of snow-white hair behind her ear, adjusting her grip on her bow. She let out a shaky sigh. __Breathe, Eirlys,__ she reminded herself. __Keeper Istimaethoriel herself said you were ready.__

 

She’d been shadowing hunts since her 13th spring. She had the skills, Lavellan knew. It was just - executing them. Not making a fool of herself, as she always seemed so prone to do.

 

There was a rustle of leaves pulled her out of her thoughts. Lavellan froze, straining her ears. A few paces to…the north. The noise stopped for a beat, two three, then started up again.

 

Lavellan swallowed, heart racing. She knocked an arrow with anxious fingers. Creeping towards the sound, each step felt disjointed, as if it were her first after a long journey in an aravel. As Lavellan closed the distance, she could make out a thinning of the trees and a small clearing ahead. Lavellan’s gaze darted around it and - there! A crouched figure in the undergrowth.

 

__Breathe,__  Lavellan reminded herself once more, though it took a moment for her to process the thought and actually take in a shuddering breath. __Fenedhis, not so loud!__

 

She cast her eyes to the ground, picking out her steps carefully so as to make as little (additional) sound as possible. Her left hand tightened around her bow until her knuckles whitened. Once she was within a range she couldn’t possibly miss, Lavellan steeled herself, biting the inside of her cheek. __I can do this,__  she told herself, though she wasn’t convinced, and pulled back the bowstring, looking up.

 

Her heart skipped a beat. Before her was not the beast Lavellan had expected, but a shemlen.

 

It was- she was a girl, probably around Lavellan’s own age, though Lavellan couldn’t be sure as she’d never seen a young human before. The girls was dressed in a stained, off-white tunic, cinched with a belt, and trousers. She was knelt next to a wild rosebush, attempting to snare a rose without being pricked by the thorns, which was the source of the rustling sound Lavellan had heard. In the girl’s hair, a deep chestnut hue and tied back in a loose bun, were flowers of all varieties and colors.

 

Lavellan, (embarrassingly) transfixed by the odd sight, caught her foot on a rock and stumbled. Thankfully, she managed to regain her footing before she speared herself with her own arrow, but the noise was an undeniable signal of her presence.

 

The shemlen jumped and stood, whipping around. Seeing Lavellan standing across from her with an arrow still aimed squarely at her, the girl’s green eyes widened, and she shrieked. That alone was enough to startle the young elf. Lavellan jerked backwards, accidentally releasing the bowstring and letting the arrow fly, off-course and to be forever lost amongst the trees. But then there was a sizzling crackle, and a bolt of lightning was shooting towards her.

 

Lavellan yelped, dropping her bow and ducking to the ground. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as the bolt surged over her head, missing her by a few scant inches.

 

__Fenedhis lasa!__ Lavellan invoked the curse as a mantra as she tried to stop shaking, nose pressed into the dirt. That…had been close.

 

“I’m sorry!” the girl exclaimed, in a panicked tone, her voice carrying a uniquely human accent (one which still somehow sounded foreign, despite all the humans in the area Clan Lavellan had traded with). “Are you all right?”

 

Lavellan peeked up. The shemlen was running towards her, and Lavellan couldn’t help but feel a spike of fear in her gut. __Mythal’s mercy, she just asked if you’re all right, she’s not going to attack you now.__ Still, she couldn’t quell the instinctual, underlying elven wariness as the shem approached.

 

“’M fine,” Lavellan mumbled, picking herself up in what she hoped resembled a dignified manner. If there was a dignified way to quit cowering. Lavellan supposed there wasn’t.

 

The girl stopped in front of her, bouncing up and down on her heels, and Lavellan wondered if she was nervous as well. After all, she’d almost been shot, too; they were even in that, at least. Though Lavellan wasn’t the one barreling over to her would-be attacker.

 

The girl’s eyes searched the elf up and down, checking for injuries Lavellan guessed. She stood straighter, feeling a flush creep up her neck under the scrutiny. The shemlen was a few inches taller, but even with the extra height, her presence was hardly ‘looming.’

 

“You…you didn’t hit me,” Lavellan supplied, cursing her shyness for her stuttering.

 

The girl smiled in relief. Up close, Lavellan could see the splay of freckles on the shemlen’s cheeks, barely darker than the bronze of her skin. __She’s pretty,__  Lavellan thought, and it felt less like a realization and more like a simple statement of fact.

 

“Thank the Maker. I wasn’t trying to, I promise,” the girl swore earnestly. She shrugged, and her smile turned a tad sardonic. “Though that hasn’t always stopped me before, honestly.”

 

A comforting thought. Lavellan’s stomach gave a queasy flip, and she rubbed a hand along the back of her neck.

 

The girl peered at her, brows furrowed, mouth turned in a worried frown. “You’re sure you’re fine?”

 

Lavellan blushed, and she gazing down at her feet, embarrassed. Creators, she hadn’t even been hit, and she was acting like a wet-behind-the-ears da’len. “I’m sure.” She cleared her throat, drawing her shoulders up and lifting her chin in an act of bravado she didn’t necessarily feel, meeting the shemlen’s eyes with her own blue ones. “It would take a lot more to scare me.”

 

Which, well. Was definitely a lie. And it even sounded like one, the way her voice quavered halfway through.

 

The girl grinned, and to Lavellan’s surprise there was nothing mocking or disbelieving about it. “Well, then,” the shemlen said, sticking out a small hand (scratched, she noticed, probably from the rosebush). “My name’s Avery Trevelyan. It’s good to meet you.”

 

Lavellan eyed the offered hand, glancing at Trevelyan curiously. The shemlen waited patiently, and detecting nothing malicious in her expression, Lavellan quickly wiped her hand on her pants, then grasped the shem’s hand in her own. “Andaran atish’an,” she greeted politely. “I’m Eirys, of Clan Lavellan. Soon to be a hunter,” Lavellan added proudly, as close to bragging as she was willing to go, especially considering she was still empty-handed. “At least, I hope.”

 

Trevelyan’s eyes widened, and she looked impressed. It shouldn’t have pleased Lavellan as much as it did. “A hunter? But you don’t look any older than me!” Trevelyan’s gaze flicked down to Lavellan’s bow, laying discarded on the ground. She stepped over and picked it up, turning it over in her hands before proffering it to the elf. “Are you hunting now?”

 

Lavellan took the bow, nodding with a small smile. “I’m on my first hunt. It’s a test for apprentices…”

 

They fell into step together, Lavellan telling the shemlen about her clan and Dalish life, Trevelyan hanging on every word.

 

And that was, as the shemlen would say, the start of a beautiful friendship.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Direct follow up to ch1. Had fun writing this, hopefully it's as fun to read :-)

Lavellan had ended up successful in her hunt, a fact which surprised her as much as some of the other apprentices.

  
Trevelyan had doggedly accompanied her. Lavellan was apprehensive at first. The shemlen was very talkative and had little clue how to move quietly through the brush. Levallan didn’t need any additional hindrances beyond her own nervousness and inexperience. But Trevelyan was refreshing company. She was Lavellan’s opposite in many ways: outgoing and engaging to Lavellan’s natural shyness, warm, and seemingly unafraid of anything the woods had to offer.

 

And she was under the mistaken impression that Lavellan was somehow interesting. Which was…a unique perspective, and one the elf found herself basking in.

  
“I’ve never met anyone with white hair before,” Trevelyan said, eyeing Lavellan’s braid. She folded her arms behind her back, then added, “No one who isn’t old, I mean. My great-aunt has white hair, but we’re supposed to call it ‘silver.’” The girl snorted, though there was more amusement in it than anything else. “It’s more dignified that way, or something. Yours looks nice, though.”

  
Lavellan subconsciously tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, trying not to blush at the compliment. “Thanks. It, um…it runs in my family, every third generation.” The clan called them ‘eirlin,’ snow children. It was an uncommon quirk, but not much more than that.

  
Trevelyan kicked at a loose stone, and Lavellan’s gaze followed it as it skipped across the grass. The shemlen gave a thoughtful hum. “Lucky. Freckles run in my family. And…” She let her arms fall down to her side and glanced down at her hands, and Lavellan remembered the crackle of lightning from earlier. The brunette flexed her fingers, then looked back up. Catching Lavellan watching her, she offered a small but bright smile. “And a sweet tooth. My nan makes honeydrops to die for. Sometimes I think that’s what it’ll come to, when we all reach for the last one.”

  
Lavellan tilted her head, brows furrowing. There was a note of tension in Trevelyan’s voice, and Lavellan wasn’t sure why, though she was fairly certain it didn’t have to do with the sweets. Uncertainly, she asked, “What are honeydrops?” Passing traders occasionally brought treats, but Lavellan didn’t know the names of any of them.

  
Trevelyan’s smile widened, growing more genuine. She bounced on her heels excitedly. “They’re delicious. They’re - well, I’ll make some for you. I’ve never made them on my own before, it’ll be fun.”

  
Lavellan blue eyes widened, and she quickly stammered out, “Y-you don’t have to - ”

  
Trevelyan waved a hand, her enthusiasm practically pouring from her. “But I want to - Oh!” Trevelyan halted, standing stock still. She reached out a hand, fingers closing around Lavellan’s wrist. Lavellan’s heart beat loud and fast in her ears at the contact. “Look!” the shemlen hissed, pointing to something off to their right.

  
Lavellan looked, trying not to be distracted by the warmth of the other girl’s hand. There, nosing its way through the undergrowth, was a halla. It was a good size, so must’ve been a few years old, its antlers arcing high above its head.

  
“It’s beautiful,” Trevelyan breathed, sounding awed. Her grip on the elf tightened slightly. “Are you going to shoot it?”

  
“N-no!” Lavellan exclaimed, a flare of horror in her chest at the thought. At the noise, the halla raised its head, its black eyes staring at them. “That’s a halla. They’re… They’re not for hunting. They’re companions to our clan. Sacred.” The thought of harming one turned her stomach.

  
“Oh.” Trevelyan glanced down at her hand, which was still wrapped around Lavellan’s wrist. She released it, and sounding embarrassed, said, “Sorry.”

  
The tips of Lavellan’s ears burned in a blush, and she cleared her throat lightly. “It’s all right.”

  
“So…” Lavellan could swear the other girl’s cheeks were turning pink. “A halla, huh? Its antlers are really pretty. Do they naturally grow like that? All curvy and holey?”

  
Lavellan blinked, taking a moment to process the whirlwind of words that had escaped the shemlen’s mouth. “Um. No, our clan’s herdmaster carves them that way.” Lavellan struggled for something else, something interesting, to say. “There’s a legend that our people used to ride them. I don’t think they like it now, though. Nehnara tried it once, and they bucked her off.” Lavellan mentally cringed - so much for interesting.

  
“Wow.” Trevelyan seemed impressed, sizing the creature up, perhaps trying to imagine someone actually riding one.

  
The halla didn’t seem to mind their presence, though its ears flicked warily under Trevelyan’s stare. Its eyes moved to Lavellan, and the elf was sure she saw a sort of recognition in its eyes. It snorted, tossing its head, then walked off.

  
Trevelyan looked disappointed to see it go, shoulders slumping slightly. Lavellan guessed that, had she been alone, the shemlen would’ve run after it.

  
“We can follow it, if you want,” Lavellan offered. Judging by the direction the halla was going (west, following the sun), she was more or less sure it was heading for a small stream that should be in the area. Somewhere. There might be other halla, and, hopefully, something for Lavellan to hunt.

  
Trevelyan perked up at that, but then bit her lip. “But we’re supposed to be hunting.”

  
We. Lavellan knew that the test was meant to be done alone, so there really was no room for we. But she also figured that Trevelyan, noisy and unequipped with a bow, probably was actually hurting her odds rather than helping. So, maybe it evened out in the end? And besides, Trevelyan was interesting company. Lavellan didn’t have much opportunity to just…talk with others her own age, not without being teased at least a handful of times, if not just made fun of. (Lavellan’s elders often assured her that it was all child’s play, that the other apprentices would grow out of it. But that was a poor comfort for the time being, she thought.)

  
“It’s fine,” Lavellan assured, twisting the bow in her hands. “We’ll run into something.” Sooner or later.

  
Trevelyan glanced at her, searching the elf’s expression with a small frown. “I don’t want to be the reason you don’t become a hunter. You can tell me to go away. I won’t mind, I promise.”

  
Lavellan shouldn’t care, really, how Trevelyan felt, considering she’d just met the other girl and she was a human. But when had anyone ever accused Lavellan of not caring? It wasn’t in her nature. And, at the heart of it all, she didn’t want Trevelyan to leave.

  
Lavellan shrugged a shoulder, shifting her gaze to the halla that was wandering farther away. “Well, I’m going to follow it. You can come with me, if you want to. Or… or not.” Trevelyan hesitated, so Lavellan, an anxious knot forming in her stomach, added, “I-I’d like it if you stayed.”

  
The change in the shemlen’s expression was instantaneous. Trevelyan beamed, and Lavellan wasn’t sure she’d ever someone grin so wide. (It was…nice, Lavellan thought. Nice in a way that made the elf’s chest feel odd, like her heart was two sizes too big, and as weird as that sounded it felt- pleasant.) The freckled girl leaned over and bumped her shoulder against Lavellan’s.

  
“You’ll never be rid of me,” she vowed teasingly, linking arms with Lavellan and tugging her forward into a slow ambling after the halla. Lavellan let herself be led, though she knew the shemlen had no idea where she was going. Trevelyan glanced down at her, and this close, Lavellan could see flecks of earthy brown in her eyes. “You’re very sweet, you know?” Trevelyan stated as if it might be a revelation to Lavellan, which it was, more or less (some of the clan’s elders had told her the same thing, though most of the apprentices had another word for it - ‘pushover.’) “No wonder I like you.”

  
Lavellan blushed, but couldn’t bring herself to look away. “You don’t know me,” she protested quietly.

  
Trevelyan scoffed softly, though not unkindly. “So? Does it matter?”

  
“I don’t know,” Lavellan said, uncertain. “Isn’t it supposed to?” Everyone in Lavellan’s clan was cautious, slow to trust outsiders, and friendships were a thing that had to be built purposefully, over time. Was it really possible to just- like someone? Just like that?

  
Trevelyan, however, seemed undeterred. “Then I guess I’ll just have to get to know you, then.”

  
The corners of Lavellan’s lips turned upwards in a small smile. “I guess so.”

 

* * *

  
  
“Eirys!”

  
“I know.”

  
“It’s right there!”

  
Lavellan’s eyes slid to Trevelyan. The shemlen, like herself, was pressed low to the ground. A stone’s throw away from them was a yearling ram, an impressive curl of horns on its head. He had waded into the shallowest part of the stream, head down, drinking. Lavellan could only imagine how hot the creature must be, covered in its shaggy fur. At least the halla, of which there were a few nearby, had a shorter and lighter colored coat, and even they seemed to be relishing in the cool water.

  
“Where?” Lavellan whispered, feigning her best innocently clueless tone. She reached slowly, haltingly, into the quiver on her back, fishing out an arrow and knocking it.

  
Trevelyan shot her a mock-exasperated look, though the smirk was a tell-tale giveaway she was faking. “Very cute, ha ha. So, are you going to shoot it?”

  
Lavellan pulled the bowstring back, closing an eye. There was a slight breeze, easy enough to correct for. Still, she waited. From this angle, any shot she would take would likely be non-lethal. Which would mean a messy kill, and more suffering than was necessary to inflict. She hated the idea of causing pain for pain’s sake, for expediency. “When I get a clean shot.”

  
“Clean, right- ”

  
The ram’s ears spun towards them and it raised its head. Heart pounding, Lavellan saw her chance, and holding her breath, she released her arrow.

  
It whistled through the air. Even though the distance was short, it seemed to take ages for the arrow to find its mark. At the last moment, the ram started to jerk away, but it was too late. Lavellan’s heart nearly stopped when it pierced the ram’s skull, next to its eye. Its legs buckled, and a kind of wheezing groan escaped its open mouth.

  
She’d done it. She’d all but completed her first hunt. She was going to be a hunter! A muted excitement jolted through Lavellan’s veins like electricity.

  
At her side, Trevelyan flinched, her eyes darting away from the now still creature. She seemed paler, lips pressed together in a fine line, but at Lavellan’s worried glance, she shook her head. “That was an amazing shot!”

  
Lavellan scrambled to her feet, then offered a hand to the shemlen, who took it gratefully. Trevelyan was shaky on her feet. When Lavellan tugged her up, she stumbled into the elf, close enough they almost bumped noses.

  
“Sorry.” Trevelyan steadied herself, cheeks pink in embarrassment. She took a few hasty steps back to give Lavellan space.

  
“Are you all right?” Lavellan asked, her voice a tad higher than usual. “You…don’t seem all right.”

  
“I’ve never actually been on a hunt before,” Trevelyan admitted, looking anywhere but at the fallen ram. “Or - seen anything die.”

  
Lavellan remembered the first hunt she’d been taken on. She’d been about three years younger, and though she’d understood what hunting meant, knowing was no substitute for actually seeing. She felt a wave of sympathy for the brunette.

  
“I cried, on the first hunt I watched,” Lavellan said, rubbing the back of her neck as she recalled the hot tears that hadn’t quelled until they’d returned to the camp. “And the second. The older apprentices teased me about it.”

  
Trevelyan’s brow furrowed, and she seemed to relax a fraction. “Asses. You’ll show them, when you bring this back.” Trevelyan gestured to the ram, though she took care not to look at it.

  
Lavellan laughed, her excitement causing it to bubble out of her. “I don’t think it’ll be nearly as impressive as Aenor’s wolf, but… It’s enough.” Enough to become a hunter. Enough to get her vallaslin. “I can’t wait.”

  
Lavellan’s buoyant mood proved infectious, and Trevelyan’s mouth cracked into a smile. She shifted from foot to foot, and when she spoke there was a twinge of wistfulness in her tone. “I guess that means goodbye for now, huh?”

  
Lavellan’s stomach fell in disappointment. “I- Do you know the way back? I can walk you.”

  
Trevelyan’s smile grew into something soft and warm, like a ray of sunlight. “That’s very noble of you. Another time, when…well.” She looked at the ram, and blanched, quickly looking away.

  
“Sure,” Lavellan said, desperately hoping that ‘another time’ wasn’t a polite way of saying goodbye forever.

  
Trevelyan picked up on her uncertainty and took a step closer, putting a hand on Lavellan’s shoulder. “Hey, I have to dazzle you with honeydrops, don’t think you’ll be getting away from me that easy. Though I think I’ll have to ask Aunt Elise to go to the market, so it may take a few days to get everything together. It’ll be worth it, I promise.” Trevelyan took her hand away to make a crossing motion over her chest.

  
“I’ll look forward to it,” Lavellan said with a relieved grin. “And when you next see me…”

  
“You’ll be a hunter,” Trevelyan finished, her grin even larger than the elf’s. “I can’t wait.”

 

Lavellan didn't think she could, either.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Backstory for a fic I'm thinking about writing in the future, with Inquisitor Lavellan. Just fluff, more or less. Bending canon a little.
> 
> Title is just taken from the flower meaning: lilac - youthful innocence & first love. Also more or less.
> 
> Just some notes as I continue this, feel better stating it upfront: Lav and Trev are young teens in this, so I wanna stress that the fluff is gonna be age appropriate - as I hope the rating and lack of the 'underage' warning suggest. Writing anything more than that would feel kind of squicky for me, personally. The point of this story is to give a backstory to a DA:I fic I want to write in the future, and explore the start of a relationship I want to develop more fully there. 
> 
> And thank you to everyone who's read, left kudos, commented, or bookmarked!! <3


End file.
